


The Many Moods of Colonel O’Neill

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-18
Updated: 2007-02-18
Packaged: 2019-02-02 08:43:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12723303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: SGC personnel weather a day of the Colonel without Daniel.





	The Many Moods of Colonel O’Neill

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

  
Author's notes: All mistakes are my own. I make no profit from this, and if you sue all you’ll get are my student loans. Thanks to Damia Masters for a fantastic beta.  


* * *

__

Smug

The first thing Major Davis had noticed when he arrived at the SGC the day before last to begin the yearly audit had been the quiet. Well, the relative quite in any case. When he enquired as to the lack of any major crisis, he soon discovered that SG1 had been given a week of downtime after a particularly full mission schedule. He had it on good authority from Sergent Siler that Major Carter had spent most of her time in a small storage room on level 12 working on her Harley Davidson. Teal’c had gone off-world to visit his wife and son. The Colonel and Dr. Jackson had gone fishing. In Minnesota.

Watching the two of them enter the briefing room on Monday morning, Paul couldn’t help but notice that Colonel O’Neill looked extremely pleased with himself. Taking one look at the blissed-out expression on Dr. Jackson’s face, it didn’t take a person with 3 PhD’s to work out why. Apparently fishing agreed with them. 

Paul sighed. It wasn’t enough that Colonel O’Neill, self professed sneaky old rat-bastard, had snagged Daniel. No, he had to go around looking like he had. Paul couldn’t help cast a surreptitious glare in the Colonel’s direction, and hope he was too busy being smug to notice. The quiet conversation O’Neill had had with him just over a year ago concerning any future and past interest he may have in a certain archaeologist had been brief but to the point. O’Neill had looked at him significantly and then told him that he knew 17 ways to kill a man with a doily, and if these “inappropriate thoughts” continued he’d demonstrate at least one of them on Paul. Which, all considered, made O’Neill a hypocritical, sneaky, old rat-bastard.

“Dr. Jackson, I’ve reviewed your application. I agree you should accompany SG-12 and the archaeological team to help establish the dig on P3X-438. I want you back here in two days, though, to accompany SG1 on their next mission.” General Hammond said warningly. 

Daniel nodded innocently as if the thought of staying on at the dig had never occurred to him. Colonel O’Neill leant back and blithely asked

“When do we leave?” 

The General frowned and replied

“You, Colonel, aren’t going anywhere except your office. You have more than enough paperwork to keep you occupied for the next two days.” 

Paul gained a small amount of satisfaction, however petty, seeing the Colonel’s good mood dissipate like so much laughing gas, to be replaced by something which could charitably be described as extreme unease. Really, he thought, it was unbecoming for a man of O’Neill’s rank to look so terrified. 

__

Terrified

While attempting to locate SergentSiler, who had promised to bring him some Twinkies this morning as an apology for an unfortunate blue jello incident that had occurred yesterday evening in the commissary, Teal’c encountered Colonel O’Neill sulking in the direction of his office.

O’Neill brightened a little and intercepted him.

“Hey, T. How’s it going?”

“It goes well O’Neill. SergentSiler has bought Twinkies.” 

“You’re a man of simple pleasures, Teal’c,” replied O’Neill with a hearty slap to his shoulder. 

Teal’c had no doubt that their current inane conversation bore some connection to the recent departure of DanielJackson with SG-12. When he first became aware of the nature of the relationship between O’Neil and DanielJackson, Teal’c had feared that it may hinder their efforts to defeat the Goa’uld and win freedom for the people of this galaxy. O’Neil’s concern for Daniel Jackson’s safety had gone from a leader’s concern to a lover’s terror.

“Is something troubling you?” Teal’c enquired politely, having already read that days mission proposals.

“Hammond’s sent Daniel off with SG-12 and some archaeologists. No doubt to their certain deaths.” Stated Jack with panic-tinged resignation.

“I see. Is not P3X-438 a secure world that has been uninhabited for many centuries?” Teal’c replied, keeping his tone carefully bland. O’Neill caught the mutinous undercurrent, and shot him a quelling look. 

Changing tactics, he tried to appeal to O’Neill’s sense of reason. 

“Do you not believe SG-12 to be warriors fit to protect DanielJackson?” O’Neill pulled a face and resolutely ignored reason. 

“It’s not that they’re incompetent or anything like that. It just takes practice to be able to handle Daniel.” Teal’c gave him a long look and Jack winced at the entendre, hoping that a man of Teal’c’s advanced years was beyond calling him on it. Teal’c made no reply, and after allowing the silence to stretch on, O’Neill muttered something about paperwork and alien conspiracies as he stomped off down the hallway. 

Raising an eyebrow, Teal’c continued along his original path, thinking again of his concerns about O’Neill’s fitness. As it had turned out, in combat situations it made him more vigilant, more accurate in his strategy, and fight far harder. However, Teal’c pondered as he knocked on Major Carter’s lab door a few hours later, in instances such as this, when Daniel Jackson was off-world with another team, and O’Neill’s terror had no outlet he became…Teal’c believed the word was…

__

Cranky

“…cranky.” Sam quashed her smile at Teal’c’s uncharacteristically grim pronouncement. Walking through the corridors towards their fate (Daniel had asked politely that they make sure Jack ate something while he was away, probably not realising the peril his innocuous question entailed), she didn’t answer, just smiled and kept pace. She had noticed the Colonel’s mood when Daniel was off world with another team. She wasn’t the only one. Colonel Dixon had made some unflattering comparisons between the Colonel and his oft-pregnant wife. People tended to leap for cover as the Colonel cut a swathe through the SGC.

By the time they entered the commissary for a late lunch, the Colonel had almost cleared the room. The few that remained – a huddled group of marines and anthropologists, proving that adversity did breed strange bedfellows – were well across the room from where O’Neill had spread some files over a table. 

“Carter, T.” Was the only acknowledgement they received as he sunk his fork viciously into his pie. It was an alarming enough sight to make even Teal’c raise an eyebrow. Carter hid a little grimace before sliding down into a seat well out of fork range. 

Suddenly klaxons sounded, and Walter Harriman’s voice came over the intercom. 

“Unscheduled off-world activation.” The Colonel shot out of his seat, files and pie abandoned, to race through the corridors. 

The call for “Medical team to the Gateroom,” only spurred him to greater speeds. Carter and Teal’c followed dutifully after at a more sedate jog. Running as though Daniel was hurt seemed to be tempting fate. As she and Teal’c made there way through the corridors, she noticed that people, only recently recovered from Colonel O’Neill’s purposeful progress, scattered again. Huh, she though to herself. Maybe the Colonel wasn’t the only one of them with a reputation for being a mite cranky. 

__

Tender

Janet was just entering the Gateroom with medics in tow when the opposite door opened and the Colonel barrelled through. She could see him searching for the familiar face amongst the small crowd of wounded soldiers and archaeologists. He found his target, and she hoped from a medical perspective that he didn’t jostle anyone who was too seriously injured to get to him. Checking over the other members of the party first, and assigning medical personnel to take them to the infirmary, she finally came to where the Colonel was doing a professional, if not somewhat ‘hands-on’, check of Dr. Jackson. She could hear the low protests of

“I’m fine Jack.” Quickly drowned out by

“Sure, Daniel, if ‘fine’ means ‘bleeding all over the gate room’.” His tone was sharp and words cutting, but she noticed his hands were sure and gentle. Almost…tender. 

“The Colonel is right, Daniel, I’d like to see you in the infirmary.” The other man nodded glumly before trailing after her. As they left, they could hear the Colonel rounding on Major Hillsworth, the unhappy leader of the expedition. The doors closed, drowning out anything beyond the opening 

“What the hell happened?-” and Daniel flinched.

“There really wasn’t anything he could have done.” He said softly to Janet, and she patted his arm comfortingly before continuing

“What did happen Daniel? I thought it was a quiet couple of days of archaeology.” He smiled ruefully, wincing as he reflexively moved to run a hand through his hair and instead aggravated some as yet unseen injury. 

“It was quiet for a few hours, but then the soldiers left guarding the gate reported some activity. An AlQuesh landed, and suddenly there were Jaffa everywhere. We have no idea why they arrived when they did.” 

Reaching the infirmary, Daniel absently sat down on a bed as Janet pulled a curtain around and began her inspection. 

“I hope Jack doesn’t give Hillsworth too much trouble.” He commented, worrying his lower lip. Janet instructed him to remove his shirt, and chose not to answer. If this time were following the pattern set in a few previous memorable occasions, Hillsworth would be getting a lot of ‘trouble’ at the moment, before the Colonel went somewhere to quietly panic for a few minutes and then showed up in the infirmary. 

As if on cue, a voice called from the other side of the curtain   
“Knock knock.” 

“Come in, Jack.” Daniel replied, smiling sweetly in a way that indicated he was pleasantly surprised by Jack’s continuing attention. The Colonel answered with a smile as soft as his earlier ministrations. Janet coughed and indicated that she was about to open the curtain, and the Colonel nodded in acknowledgement before drawing himself up and saying

“Fercryingoutloud Daniel. One day. I let you out of my sight for one day and this happens.” He held up a single finger for emphasis and glared. Daniel rolled his eyes and replied by rote

“I’m alright, SG-12 was there to baby-sit us.”

“Baby-sit? You don’t need babysitters, you need a goddamn SWAT team. Divine intervention. Quick! Someone call Oma!” 

Janet raised an eyebrow – a silent reminder that the Colonel should put a little less feeling into it – and the Colonel subsided into a seat next to the bed, and continued in a quieter voice,

“What is it with you Geeks anyway? Maybe the Goa’uld have a special Geek detector. Some way of tracking the Geek gene.” Daniel gave him a withering look, and Janet concealed her smile. Off course, she thought to herself wryly, as with most things, ‘tender’ for Jack O’Neil was not necessarily in line with the common definition. 

__

Possessive

Dr Fraser had happily released all but one of the personnel who had been on P3X-438 for the debriefing. The three archaeologists (including a bandaged Dr. Jackson), and three soldiers now sat at the conference table with Colonel O’Neill and Major Davis, whose audit was to continue unimpeded by anything less than the complete destruction of the SGC.

“Dr. Jackson, can you tell us what happened, son.” George had already heard a brief version from the Colonel’s interrogation of Major Hillsworth in the Gateroom, but it seemed advisable to get Dr. Jackson’s account. After all, George thought grimly while looking at the still-sweating Major, people often said misleading things under duress. 

Daniel grimaced and pushed his glasses up his nose, before beginning to recount the incident with animation and more than a little annoyance. Apparently Jaffa warriors had even less respect for artefacts than marines fresh from the academy. Dr Jackson explained earnestly that being the minions of pure evil didn’t excuse such a complete disregard for the material history of another race’s culture. The assembled group nodded dutifully, particularly the other archaeologists. George wondered if they felt the same passion for artefact preservation, or sported a standard issue crush on Dr. Jackson. 

Speaking of which, George thought to himself… Colonel O’Neill, ever the model of restraint, looked like he was about to vault over the conference table and kill Major Davies with whatever came to hand. Or failing that, his hands themselves. Not that anyone would blame him for being a little concerned on occasion, after all Dr Jackson would be beating them off with a stick if he realised that any stick-beating was necessary. But there was a difference between ‘a little concerned’, and ‘psychotically possessive’ – and just like every other line George could think of, Jack had sauntered across it blithely a long time ago.

When their relationship had began, he’d held grave concerns – after all, fraternisation rules existed for a reason. He’d even called Dr. Jackson in for a chat, figuring he was the more reasonable of the two, only to have his concerns dismissed with an incredulous look and the comment of “And this is different from Jack’s usual behaviour how...?” Faced with Dr. Jackson’s inquisitively arched eyebrows and the truth of the statement, he’d let things rest, with a warning that any further deterioration of the Colonel’s good manners would cause a re-evaluation of his tolerance. Dr Jackson had smiled sweetly in a way that made George think he wouldn’t be re-evaluating anything for some time to come. 

That sweet look was no where in evidence at the moment, though, as Major Davis desperately tried to telegraph his distress to an oblivious and gesticulating Daniel, while Jack snarled at him. Snarled? Startled out of his revere, George leant forward and said sharply

“Colonel?” O’Neill kept on glaring at Davis heedlessly, until Dr. Jackson noticed the interruption to his report.

“Jack?” With one last sneer towards the hapless Major, O’Neill turned to his beloved to find him narrow eyed and snarkey.

“I’m sorry, are the details of my near death experience boring you?” O’Neill looked contrite and replied

“No, no.” After the silence continued for a moment more he added, “Carry on.” This earned him another dark look before Dr. Jackson went back to continuing his narrative.

George supposed he should be worried at the fact that Dr. Jackson seemed to have supplanted military authority in the Colonel’s mind, but if ever there was someone who would use such a power judiciously, he decided, it would be Daniel. After all, he thought with a smile, the archaeologist wasn’t exactly the sort to try to take over the world. 

“We’re glad to have you all back safe.” George declared, before beaming at the Colonel, who looked like a kid itching for the last day of school to end. 

“Dismissed.” He added, and watched as O’Neill sprung to his feet, and fidgeted while Dr. Jackson stood more slowly, still wincing. They paused and smiled at each other softly, before George cleared his throat, and O’Neill jumped slightly. 

“And we’re walking,” he said to Daniel, who blushed in George’s direction. They quickly shuffled out of the room, O’Neill casting a borderline smirk over his shoulder, and George couldn’t help but feel content with the state of the world. 

__

Happy

After a very long day Colonel Jack O’Neil and the archaeologist he loved – a little worse for wear – headed home. By unspoken agreement, they headed straight for the bedroom, and hopefully a sound night’s sleep. Daniel paused with one arm in his sweater, and the other out.

“Jack?” he asked quizzically, in response to his lover’s long stare and soft smile.

“You make me happy.” It was so unexpected, Daniel remained frozen in his awkward position. The sentiment wasn’t unexpected, but its delivery sure was. Usually wrangling emotions from Jack bought to mind metaphors involving blood and a stone. 

“What?” was the most intelligent response he could muster.

Jack walked over, helping to extract him from the jumper, before taking his hands. 

“You make me happy. I love you.” 

Jack made his pronouncement with the serene certainty that it was self-evident. Daniel felt a smile break across his face – a particular smile that he knew from Gateroom surveillance footage looked more than a little dopey. 

“That’s nice, that’s...really nice. Possibly the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, but if you don’t mind me asking, what’s bought this on?” As they spoke, Jack began to help him out of the rest of his clothes, carefully avoiding his injuries. 

With his hands on the waistband of Daniel’s boxers, Jack looked up and suddenly grinned.

“Normally I’d just throw you down and have my wicked way with you, but you’re all…” Jack took in his lover’s blemished physique and trailed off, “…tenderised.” Daniel reached over and patted his elbow in a vaguely reassuring manner before smirking.

“Are you telling me…” he yawned and gingerly crept onto their bed, “that while most people say it with flowers, you say it with sex?” Jack flopped down next to him, having discarded his own clothes during the conversation.

“ ‘It’?” He queried, while trying to work out which part of Daniel he could snuggle while causing the least pain. 

“It.” Daniel repeated sleepily, before mumbling, “Y’know, ‘I love you.’” 

Jack grinned, taking stock of the situation. He had Dr. Daniel Jackson in his bed. His Dr. Jackson, in his bed. Sure, his Dr. Jackson was snoring softly, and possibly beginning to drool on his shoulder, but hey, his Dr. Jackson was in love with him. 

“Eat your heart out, Davies.” He whispered smugly.


End file.
